


Do Milkshake Go With That Shake?

by theprincessed



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Couch Sex, Facials, M/M, Oral Sex, Pole Dancing, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2013-02-26
Packaged: 2017-12-03 17:38:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprincessed/pseuds/theprincessed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Harry and Louis go clubbing together in London for the first time in a long time and they bump into Nick. Louis doesn't stay with Harry for long.</i> - OR clubbing!fic: TOMLINSHAW edition (featuring some pole dancing!Louis, if that's a draw for you).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do Milkshake Go With That Shake?

**Author's Note:**

> They just keep getting longer! But I do feel out of practice now. I've been working on this since November! Thanks go to [Randominity](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Randominity/pseuds/Randominity) and [flimsy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/flimsy/pseuds/flimsy) for various encouragement, hand-holding and cheerleading. Kudos and comments are always love. <3

“No,” Louis shakes his head at Harry as they stand in Louis’ kitchen at nine in the evening, “it’s too big a risk, but you go have some fun. We don’t live together anymore, remember? You do what you want.”

It’s a conversation they’ve had a few times ever since they toured America and decided to go out one night. They were mostly underage for the country, of course, but nightclubs seemed to care less about that when One Direction were at their doors. Harry blinks at Louis now, the beginnings of a hurt frown clouding his face because there’s so many things wrong with what Louis just said and they both know it. Eventually, Harry sighs and pushes off from the shiny countertop that he’s leaning on to move closer to him.

“That’s bullshit,” he reminds him gently despite his fierce words, “I always did what I want, not just since I live by myself. Besides, do you realise how _old_ you sound? You’re the risk master – ”

“If you finish that sentence,” Louis interrupts darkly, ignoring the calculated age jibe to half turn and point a finger in Harry’s face, “with ‘from Doncaster’, I _will_ kick you out.”

“You are anyway,” he mumbles at the empty threat before changing tactic with a steadying breath in as he starts to knead his fingers persuasively into Louis’ shoulders, “Come on, Lou. Everyone will most likely be too off their face to care it’s you,”

Louis busies himself with lifting the kettle to pour the tea. “Oh thanks, charmer.”

“You know what I mean. We can all go?”

As much as he was a little unusually embarrassed after that night out, the rest of the boys were also like the brothers he never had and were understanding...for all of 0.2 seconds obviously before laying into him, but he knew it was all in good humour. Harry sounds so hopeful and secretly his round green eyes always makes some part of Louis waver whether he knows it as an advantage or not. Usually it’s encouragement for Louis to do or say that stupid thing or permission to take the piss out of him, but it’s most effective when it’s wheedling for his own ends. Louis can do it right back, but apparently his body is on board with Harry’s suggestion already and he can feel his mind relenting along with it. He looks down at the mug and steeping teabag and it’s suddenly not so inviting. He wants alcohol and bright lights, but darkness and relative anonymity too. It might be different being in London, but maybe Harry is right. Is it arrogant to think that people would notice _him_?

“Fine, I’ll go,” he says, patting Harry’s hand still on his shoulder, “but what about your other friends? Your celebrity friends?”

He grins as Harry shoves him hard in the back then contradicts it by pressing his lips to Louis’ cheek in a thankful kiss, “It’s you I want to go out with tonight, not them.”

“If only that were true the way I want.” Louis jokes, sighing theatrically, “Alright, but it’s all your idea. You’re the one to blame if I, I don’t know, get arrested or start dancing on tables and taking my clothes off in public.”

Harry turns him away from the tea and towards his bedroom, leaning near his ear with a smile. 

“Okay.” he says, agreeable as always, “At least you’d be in the right place for them to appreciate the nakedness.”

He cackles as Louis twists out of his hold and a scuffle breaks out between them.

***

As much as he was more cautious around these parts in his own (second) backyard of London, Louis had to admit that he loved it when he was actually in the moment. Harry helped a lot, loping past security with a smile and a nod, apparently finding the only club in the city that isn’t stalked outside by paparazzi. As they slip in through the doors at gone eleven o’clock, Louis wonders idly why that is. Surely the paps could get one or two golden exclusives from trawling these streets? A cold shiver slices down his spine like iced water and he hastily shakes the feeling away to scurry after Harry and into the safer darkness of the loud, boisterous club. He takes a second to look around, but cuts his gaze to Harry when he can feel him grinning at his profile.

“Thank you for releasing me back into my natural habitat, babe,” he says, rolling his eyes fondly.

Harry’s mad laugh is drowned out by the level of pounding noise, only broken into stutters as the swing doors open and shut. He puts his arm right around Louis’ shoulders to give him a squeeze. “Don’t go too wild now. You are a taken man.”

They both know he says it to get a rise and they know it’ll work, Louis proving it as a shrugs him off with a pout. “You’re no fun!”

He nearly walks into someone as a result of their petty bickering and half turns to quickly apologise, but it dies on his tongue when the tall, aloof god of a man in question swaggers from the room with barely a backwards glance. He hates how it makes him think of one person and his jaw sets and brow creases as he blinks slowly, willing the urge to stamp his foot and whine to go away as soon as he opens them again. He’s not here. He’s out DJ’ing at someplace Louis doesn’t know about...probably because he wasn’t listening at the time.

“God, why am I here?!”

Harry steps around Louis and takes his hands. “Well, that’s a question for a big discussion for another time,” he jokes and Louis bites his lip to hide his smile at how ridiculously silly his best friend is. “But also it’s because I want you to be.”

He’s given in once, coming out tonight in the first place, and Harry looks so pleased that he hasn’t the heart to make it a bad experience just because he’s a little anxious, so Louis does what he always does when he’s unsure – he throws himself in head first. He takes a deep breath in and drops one of Harry’s hands but keeps hold of the other to drag him to the crush of the bar. The club itself is all darkness and swirling coloured lights and not much else, exposed grey brick and metal winding staircases of an abandoned warehouse taken over by the bass of fast music and flowing alcohol. The DJ is high up in the rafters like a half-hidden deity and there isn’t a designated dancefloor, just a whole lot of bodies swaying like a wave and forced to break apart a fraction as Louis and Harry struggle through. He’s not into dance music much himself on a daily basis, but Louis understands how the beats and riffs and synths are infectious...or at least that’s what Nick tries to tell him about some DJ called Danny and his mixes.

Reaching the clearing of moving people to those clustered around for drinks, Louis adjusts his shirt collar to feel a little less like he’s suffocating. Harry sighs next to him – he doesn’t hear the sound, just catches sight of the quick up and down of his ribcage – and pinches his elbow to get his attention before beginning to reach across.

“You should undo a few!” he suggests loudly, nodding at the navy and white spotted shirt he’s wearing completely fastened from his neck to the waistband of his clinging black jeans.

Louis shakes his head, but allows for the top button to release and his shoulders drop from relief. He gives Harry a flippant _happy now?_ look, but apparently it’s still not enough and his reflexes go to shit as Harry suddenly spins him from the huddle at the bar to face him and uses the leverage of the open top button to tug the rest of them away. Louis tries to grasp belatedly at Harry’s hands with a scowl on his face but stumbles backwards, defeat in his eyes, as he knows it’s useless to pin it back in place when the buttons scatter all over the cold floor. In any other situation, it might be a bit sexy but instead it’s his best friend just being a know-it-all knobhead.

“I couldn’t decide!” he snaps defensively at Harry’s wide eyed staring at his torso. “You were rushing me!”

“Fuck,” his mouth shapes the word quietly as he presses his thumb into Louis’ collarbone then leans in to his ear to shout, “Why were you hiding this? Now’s not the time, Lou!”

Louis would remind him that only minutes ago he was nattering about how he was a taken man, but he’s distracted by self-consciously fiddling with the hem of his sleeveless top, shimmering electric blue under the lights, sloping tight across his chest and tummy with a rounded collar slashed severely on one side to reveal half a golden-skinned clavicle. Harry flings an arm out to catch him around the neck, kissing his temple.

“Hey, I’d shag you...if, y’know, you weren’t my best mate,” his smirk turns into a huge grin when Louis pushes at his stomach and points demandingly at the bar to get their drinks. Harry shoves him in return. “Stop deflecting!” he warns, breaking into loud laughter when Louis wobbles unsteadily and crashes into a dancing nobody, the guy’s expression going from annoyed to downright predatory in 0.2 seconds flat.

“I’ve got a boyfriend!” he cries hurriedly in a panic, scuttling away to neck the whiskey that’s ready for him.

“Boyfriend, eh?” Harry yells, clearly enjoying himself as Louis’ cheekbones glow pink through his disgruntled glare.

***

After a few drinks and easy conversation, Louis itches to move around.

He clutches at Harry, dragging him into the fray despite his protests that he can’t dance, giggling over Louis’ head as he takes his hand to twirl under and directs Harry to do the same with a slightly greater edge of stooping difficulty. They mess around in a tangle of flailing arms and bumped hips, happily jostled back into place by people around them taking it a bit more seriously than them as they try to pull some pretty young thing for the night. With a bottle in his hand and a glance at Harry’s grin, Louis’ suddenly glad that his arm was twisted enough to come and shuffles closer into his friend’s warmth. As the lights switch frenetically and the music reaches its first peak to get the clubbers going, Harry automatically dips his head down a little to hear Louis when he rests his free arm on his shoulder for attention.

“Don’t you fancy working that Styles charm on anyone?” he teases, taking a drink and trying to sway them the same way as everyone else.

He shakes his head, but smiles wide. “Not yet. I’m watching you in your element. I should’ve known you’d end up shagging a DJ.”

Louis’ lip curls, affecting an unimpressed look, “Nick can’t mix for shit though, so his DJ thing doesn’t really do it for me actually,”

“So he really has got a big dick then? I _knew_ that’s why you’re interested in him!” he laughs raucously, barely stopping as Louis deftly but gently slaps his cheek.

“Weirdo. I’m saying nothing!”

Effectively putting an end to that particular topic, Louis stretches to place his emptied drink on the uneven edge of a pillar and takes a step backwards for some room. He raises an eyebrow challengingly at Harry and raises an arm in the air with one finger up, sometimes affectionately known as his ‘drunk finger point’, to the tune of Harry’s amusement as he closes his eyes. He has to admit, whilst this place isn’t exactly playing much mainstream top 40 music, it’s still fun and loud and – now that he knows it’s practically expected of him – he’s starting to lose himself in it.

They jump like idiots at a field rave, arms swaying above their heads, and the more people cram onto the dancefloor, the less Louis can tell if the brush of fingers is Harry’s in front of him until he opens his eyes again. He almost doesn’t want to and he’s carried by the beat and memories of Leeds and spending time with his best friend popping into his mind but despite this little piece of freedom there’s still a niggle of caution.  
His head jerks around when he finds that Harry’s disappeared and he panics for a second, like always, until he spots a mop of curly hair not very far away. His shoulders are bent a little before he straightens to reveal who he’s valiantly trying to converse with, a tiny redhead in a cut-out leotard and huge shoe boots that barely do anything to lift her and one of the few gaggle of girls in here this evening. Louis rolls his eyes fondly at Harry’s ability to nonchalantly attract females everywhere he goes and resolves to spending the rest of his time between drinking at the bar and dancing whilst swatting away any groping. He’s still curiously watching Harry work his charm as he stalks towards the bar for another, much needed drink when he collides with something slim but solid and quite obviously a body.

“Whoa, shit, sorry!” he apologises, stumbling before hands grip his wrists and he raises his gaze, shocked, “What the - what’re _you_ doing here? I thought you were working!”

“Yeah, _here_ ,” Nick giggles, grinning hugely, “I’m DJ’ing. Well, I was. I’m done now and in house’ve taken over, but never mind that,” he’s let Louis go since he’s sure of his balance again, but touches his elbow as he leans in, “you look really fit.”

He partly wants to argue from the feel of his hair slightly wilting and turning messy instead of a proper quiff and how his top is starting to stick to him even closer with sweat, glowing along the plains of his face and outlining his belly just a little more than he’d usually like, but he sees the way Nick’s eyes track downwards as a different thought comes to mind.

“Did Harry _know_? Is that why he dragged me out to here of all places?”

Nick raises an eyebrow disbelievingly, like Louis won’t be dragged anywhere. “Probably.” he shrugs, before taking a quick glance around. There’s some space between the bar and the dancing hordes, so this might be a tad risky, but. “Is it safe to...y’know?”

Louis licks his lips on instinct and can see how it makes Nick regretfully bite his own as he looks torn. He breathes him in quickly as Nick embraces him in a friendly hug instead to ask, “Come back to mine?”

Louis wriggles out of his grasp, weighing up his options. He knows Harry won’t mind if he skips out early (even if it does cut short their time together, but Louis can always playfully blame him for being too attached to pussy if he dares say anything), although he’s not entirely sure he’s ready to do that himself when he’s having such fun with drink and dancing and a tentative sense of kinship that he feels like sharing. He touches Nick’s bony wrist lightly and looks at him through his thick, fanned out eyelashes with a smirk pulling up one corner of his pink lips.

“Dance with me first?”

Much like how he’d convinced (read: forced) Harry to dance with him rather than skulk awkwardly around the edges, Louis leads the way with Nick thankfully sticking close by as the heat envelopes them and almost covers like a fragile blanket of anonymity. As he turns to Nick, Louis’ quite certain that his eyes betray his excitement and usual mischief, but he tries to keep his moves nonchalant, just two people dancing amidst a sea of others.

It doesn’t last long.

Louis blames it on the amount of clubbers surrounding them in the first place and _not_ the gravitational pull of Nick’s eyes and how Louis’ thoughts wander to whether he’s sweating underneath his short leather jacket and skinny dark green jeans, hair foppish and brown eyes large behind his stupidly hipster glasses. He also can’t ignore how that gaze stays fixed to him either, mouth tipped in an all-knowing smirk as he tempts Louis to break his unusual hesitation and dance _with him_. He puts a hand up, landing to rest on Nick’s chest as if to keep some semblance of distance when Nick leans down to speak to him, breath hitting the curve of Louis’ ear and he knows he can keep himself under control because this is what Harry does too, this is okay, he can handle this, no problem.

“Come on, duck,” he says, sounding more serious than ever and Louis swallows and rethinks handling this casually, “show me what you got, hm?”

He turns to the underlying beat of the latest remix being played and Louis’ eyes widen as it feels like slow motion rejection when suddenly faced with Nick’s back. Frown of determination lowering his eyebrows into intensity normally saved for performing, he taps him on the shoulder to no response, not even a shrug off. Maybe Nick knows he won’t let that slide and Louis doesn’t want to disappoint whilst also getting what he wants, so he squeezes between a girl in a 50s prom dress and a stocky guy with a shaved head and bulging muscles popping out from his t-shirt, to come face to face with Nick again. Instead of looking away or with an expression of disinterest, Nick grins like he’s won and they mutually decide to shuffle until there’s but a hair’s breadth separating them. Louis’ eyes sparkle dangerously as he catches sight of Nick’s cock snug in his tight jeans and deliberately presses the line of his whole body against him whilst his arms sneak beneath the hem of Nick’s jacket and he moves in languid, forward pushes of his hips.

He feels Nick’s slim chest move, breath hitching as denim meets denim, “Is that wise?”

“You asked for it.” Louis shrugs.

His lips disappear as he sucks them in on a smile, either to be coy on purpose or to hold in properly laughing at Nick. He tilts his head like he’s moving for a kiss but uses his grip on Nick’s arm at the last moment to spin out with an impish giggle. Nick tries to catch him but he squirms just out of reach and that’s when Louis spots it. 

On the opposite side of the club from the bar is a small ledge with three, smooth, silver poles equal distances apart. There’s enough room for one or two people next to each pole but that’s it. The mini stage is black and blends into the darkness, the lights glinting off the metal as they rapidly change colour. He glances at Nick again because they’ve both stopped dancing among the sweaty throng of clubbers and Nick tries to grab once more when he sees him looking but, with a faint, mischievous smile at the edges of his mouth, Louis makes a beeline for the end of the room. He expects Nick to hastily follow him with some loud quip about how he’s a ridiculous attention seeker and his heart gives an excited little jolt when he stops below the ledge to see that Nick’s still standing where he left him, his eyes trying to work Louis out like a problematic maths equation.

After checking that no one’s batted an eyelid at him climbing onto the makeshift, frankly poor excuse for a stage, Louis slyly glides into the small gap behind the nearest pole. He reaches out before he can think to do otherwise, snatching his hand back almost immediately after the feel of cold, hard metal because this suddenly all too real and actually rather silly. He scans his surroundings, eyes skittering from the first set of doors into the large room across to the corner lighting the way to the toilets, but still no one is watching. 

Well, scratch that.

Louis looks down from his perch to see that there _are_ eyes on him, but not quite in the way that he’s used to. There’s no flicker of recognition or they hide it well. It’s more...expectant. He laughs inwardly at himself, twisting a section of his drooping hair back up into place in a nervous gesture because of course they’d be waiting; they’re waiting for him to _do_ something. He’s halfway to calling it quits and getting down when his gaze catches Nick’s. He’s remained brazenly standing motionless in the middle of the dancefloor and, whether it’s imaginary or not, Louis swears he raises a challenging eyebrow with a quirk to his mouth. The thought of humiliation at the hands of someone else – least of all, Nick – has Louis’ eyes narrowing and he straightens quickly, curling a palm around the pole to his right, glancing again to Nick to see him fold his arms. He looks like a talent show judge ready to be impressed and Louis turns his back as a couple more people stumble on stage, most giggling with drinks in hand, to prevent Nick from seeing any of his own laughter.

He’s holding on and taking a few steps when his gaze catches that of the pole next to him and moreover the guy who’s twirling around it with the girl he’s with laughingly blocking his path. He swallows hard at the sight of the guy suddenly throwing a wink his way, his eyes as black as soot and his dark skin gleaming with the sheen of spray on glitter, except he doesn’t point and scream Louis’ name at the top of his lungs in an accusing fashion (the fact that he wouldn’t mind him screaming it in any other circumstance is neither here nor there really). Instead, he smiles and carries on sharing the next pole with his girl. Someone else whistles high and loud but Louis puts it out of his head because it could be for anyone, the poles to full capacity now that he’s apparently been the one to start this. He turns and is working up to trying something properly when the heat of another person at his back is made very clear. He jumps, broken out of his concentration, as a pair of large, dark hands engulf his own. The guy smiles at him easily and builds a rhythm quickly, like he does this all the time, and somehow that’s an odd comfort as Louis’ pulled along for the ride, indeed following his leader until it feels like his dick is pressed up against the seam of his jeans and the pole with every thrust. 

In fact, Louis’ so busy concentrating on the moves of the guy behind him, head tilted onto his shoulder and his face turned into his warm neck, that he doesn’t see him making eyes at someone else standing on the dancefloor below them until he’s right in front of him and the other side of the pole. He’s the complete opposite of his current dancing partner and Nick as well. The man behind is not much taller than Louis and Louis fits snugly against him whereas this new guy seems even taller than Nick perhaps, towering over with a naughty glint in green eyes and a hairstyle of short blonde hair that’s a little bit 90s but he’s not that much less attractive for it. Louis follows with his eyes as the blonde slides around them both and hears snatches of conversation but most of it is lost in the music. 

He tries to find Nick again before this gets too out of hand or, worse, they start getting ideas, and he is in the exact same spot, only now he looks slightly more stony-faced. Louis rolls his hips independently in needy reaction to his fumingly jealous expression and is surprised at first at how it’s not a total disaster. The guy pressed closest makes an approving noise so he puts some distance between them and pushes his crotch towards the pole, just like the bearing down of his body as Nick is buried several fingers deep. He lets his hand take his weight and tips backwards until he can see the other poles and people, his spine so curved in he can almost feel the stretch, before pulling himself up fast and moving around with his calf tucked against the metal. It reminds him of their last music video, the cool surface sandwiched between his thighs and a short, freefalling descent to the floor. Louis bites down on his grin as he grapples a few inches off his feet then drops, his arse nearly grazing the stage as he bends his knees to cushion his stance and then straightens up nonchalantly.

On his next go, the two guys choosing to dance and giggle with each other recognise Louis’ gaining confidence and close in on him for a second time. He settles into it with more bravado, his hips swaying from side to side in their three-person conga line, as Nick breaks and starts pushing through the crowd. As the blonde returns to his previous position of opposite him with a grin, Louis’d blush from at least one dick pressed against him that isn’t Nick but he’s keeping tabs on Nick’s progress and he certainly looks more frazzled now. It’s a thrill to be desired by strangers again and it makes him bolder, adding a little shimmy at the blonde and another drop from where he stands. He slowly rubs up against the one still locked behind him, curving his arse out like he’s never done before, and leans forward so that his eyes come level with the blonde’s mouth. Suddenly, his heart jumps as more arms, outstretched and brooking no argument, block him at his back and the blonde’s front, Nick cutting his dance partners off with one quick movement. They peel away without trouble, but Louis tugs on Nick’s wrist as he tries to step down from the stage and lifts his chin tellingly.

Nick raises an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t want to here?”

Clutching the pole with his left hand as he feels dizzy with increased arousal, Louis grins enough that his eyes crease and he yanks Nick to him. “Fuck it. Took you long enough to get here, so just this once.” 

He slides their lips together firmly, opening his mouth instantly to force them to stroke tongues, and pulls Nick again as he steps out from the obstacle of the pole and slots their hips closely. He’s getting hard from the tease and the touch of his mouth _finally_ on Nick’s as his pulse is picking up under his fingertips, so Louis’ entirely prepared to be lead down from his little podium spot then pinned in place, his back bumping Nick’s front as they settle into a steady, crotch-to-arse brushing tempo for a while and lose themselves in the crowd once more.

“How come none of you can dance for shit in your job but you can move like this now?” Nick wonders out loud eventually, giving Louis’ temple a nudge with his nose for attention among the noise.

“I don’t know, maybe it’s the booze?” he shouts back, leaning into him under the pretence of being heard.

“But you’re not slurring and there’s no pointy fingers and you wouldn’t be able to do this,” Nick curls his hands below his waist and pulls their bodies to roll in tandem before Louis shifts his arse just right and grinds solidly, “Oi! No, stop! Stop rubbing your arse on me like that,”

“You asked me back to yours! I know how to work my assets is all and what d’you think this is, Grimshaw? It’s called foreplay, you slow git,”

“You shut your pretty mouth before I shag your brains out right here.” Louis feels breath at his ear and Nick’s fingertips wedge tightly below the waistband of his jeans. “Or would you like that?”

“Nick...” he starts, reaching up behind for his neck so he can get a good look at him, “...take me home,”

There’s a short stunned silence before he gets a poke right in the ribs. “That was terrible!”

“I’m never gonna get another opportunity to say it, am I?” Louis shrugs.

“And soon you will be punished. C’mon, let’s go, get your arse moving out the door, love.”

Nick swats him on the bum and Louis jumps, glaring over his shoulder but nonetheless agreeing to take the night elsewhere. Halfway there, he remembers Harry and briefly thinks about shuffling into the melee again but Nick blocking his way stops that idea. Near the bar, he leans back into Nick’s space, closing his eyes for a second as he finds the sliver of skin where his top has come away from him and stroking at his sides with his thumbs.

“I have to text Harry,”

“Okay,” Nick says, cheekily pinching his arse before shouldering ahead just in case the outside is swarming with photographers.

It’s not that they can’t be seen together. Harry and Nick are still seen together plenty and they can’t prove anything if _Louis_ and he are simply walking on the same stretch of pavement, but anything else vaguely like enthusiastic groping is strictly for in private.

***

They make it back to Nick’s flat unscathed and Louis’ hand leaves the back door slam as Nick grabs him for the passionate, lengthy kiss he didn’t quite give him when they were out. Louis’ aware that he’s leaning his tiptoeing weight on him as he loses himself in the curled heat of Nick’s tongue around his, so falls back properly onto his heels but Nick puts his arms around his waist and pulls him closer with a little shake of the head, murmuring appreciatively as they snog in the middle of his modern kitchen.

“Do you even know how to use this stuff?” Louis gasps, his fingers clawing at a spatula lying nearby as Nick presses him bodily into the nearest cabinet and licks a stripe up the vein pulsing at the side of his neck.

“Some of it.” he answers, but his tone is dismissive as he groans lowly, “ _God_ , I love your curves. You need to be wearing jeans this tight forever.”

His hands slide up Louis’ thighs and squeeze over his pert arse, but Louis leans back, his arms around Nick’s thin shoulders and a slight frown on his face. “I do _not_ have curves. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a bloke.”

“Lads!” Nick giggles momentarily into his neck with an exaggeratedly deep voice fit for a football hooligan. “Believe me, I know what you are, but this is fucking obscene, Lou. Tiny waist and hot legs and an arse a fucking _pornstar_ would kill to have, so soz if I don’t know what else to call it.”

Louis’ hips jerk helplessly at how Nick’s hands run down his spine and span his hips to tuck into his back pockets, building heat in his eyes. 

“Try.” he breathes, buying time as he ducks his head at such compliments.

“Okay,” Nick’s teeth scrape on the golden column of his throat. “Walking wet dream.”

Louis snorts, but his mouth twitches in a half smile as the flush over his collarbone glows pink. “I think I can live with that.”

The shape of Nick’s cock is unmistakable against Louis’ stomach and he thrusts upwards with his hips, bucking into his touch to get some friction going as he sways them towards a better position in the room. He murmurs in satisfaction when Nick sits down on the edge of his pinewood kitchen table, decreasing in height and letting Louis step between his long legs. As much as he’s loathe to admit it, it’s easier for Louis to reach his hair and he ruins it in one swipe, grasping handfuls and pulling tightly to cause a hitch of breath in Nick’s chest. He distracts him by chomping down on the graceful line of his neck, coaxing a bruise to the surface as he ghosts his unoccupied hand across the bulge in Nick’s jeans.

“Let me blow you,” he licks over the newest red splotch on Nick’s person as he breathes in the smell of fresh sweat and clear arousal and warm aftershave. For a couple of seconds, Nick folds him in his embrace, seemingly doing the same and catching citrus, spice and the cool note of a sea breeze.

“Please,” he says when Nick’s only reaction is to roughly align their hips with a jolt, “want you in my mouth,”

He takes Nick’s hand and presses it to his own erection, struggling to push denim out. Nick snatches it away like he’s on fire and Louis bites persuasively at his lip, smiling when Nick gives his assent. Louis reaches over both his shoulders and he’s full on grinning at his confusion until he comes away with Nick’s glasses, his vision more than okay these days. He looks faintly ridiculous as he puts them on, but he catches sight of his eyes behind them in the metallic shine of Nick’s nearby kettle and notes that they look even bigger, framed darkly by his long eyelashes and he smirks as he slides to his knees. He hears Nick swear breathily above him, but it’s not important and it’s not a plea to stop what he’s about to do so he ignores it and tugs Nick’s thin belt away, pushing the flaps of his open jacket to stay away until Nick gets frustrated himself and pulls his arms out with a wobble. Louis steadies him by the hips and looks up briefly before placing his lips against the strip of stomach that’s not covered by Nick’s loose t-shirt, burying his nose there and opening his mouth to feel his lower lip catch on the button fly on his jeans. He yanks them and Nick’s underwear down to mid-thigh but nothing more, already far more interested in Nick’s erection bobbing out in front of his face, dark pink and wet at the tip. He flicks his tongue out to taste then slides his lips a few inches over the head before Nick’s done with his pleased shudder, curling his fingers around the rest of him to pump slowly upwards. He’s hard and wanting so Louis doesn’t have to tease him, but that doesn’t mean that he won’t in his own special way.

He splutters a choked giggle around his mouthful when, with his eyes shut against the sensations, Nick reaches blindly for him and his fingers pass gently around his ears. With the hand just resting on his thigh, Louis takes Nick’s hand and places it on his head, making Nick straighten and open his eyes and Louis meets his gaze, smiling suggestively with a lot of his eyebrows and letting out a low moan around Nick’s cock when the hand sinks properly into his hair, eyelashes fluttering for a beat or two. He figures it’s the least he deserves, to get his style messed with a bit more, when he’s flirted and grinded on this man to within an inch of his life and now plans to suck his brains out of his dick. He keeps the suction tight and slick, moaning encouragements when Nick digs his fingers into his scalp and kneads the muscle at the nape of his neck to make him melt and pulls off with a slurp as the need to breathe in a lungful of air becomes too great. He licks up and down the shaft generously, saliva sticking to the sharp angle of his chin and for one memorable moment Nick moves his hips suddenly and his cock pushes against Louis’ cheekbone, smearing his face with wet until he gets him under control with his palm and an irritated flick of the eyes. Nick smirks at him and smoothes a hand around the bare part of his shoulder in apology, but Louis’ mind is made up and he slides the length of Nick slowly over his tongue before sucking him down again and picking a much faster pace.

“Oh shit,” Nick whines, his teeth, his hands, his thighs clenched as Louis bobs his head and swallows around him, “fuck, Lou – wait, I’m – ”

He gasps, his words stolen from him, as Louis slides his arm up his torso to get a hold of his chest. With him reclining the long line of his body and Louis still on his knees, he’s inches away from being able to tweak a nipple but he can’t quite get there. Not happy, he makes it known without quitting his sucking, the sounds vibrating through Nick and he half-laughs, half-groans as Louis settles for quickly pinching his side. As Nick starts to shake beneath him, mouth hanging slack, Louis lowers his mouth to his balls, licking at the skin as the open zipper of Nick’s jeans presses into the soft underside of his chin and he jerks him off with his hand fast and dirty, making sure his foreskin comes all the way up before retreating again.

“So – so close,” he warns, but it sounds like begging, it sounds like _make me come_.

Louis does his best.

Wearing Nick’s thick-rimmed glasses as a handy shield, Louis readies himself on his aching knees and shows Nick the flat of his tongue as he continues to work his wrist over him.

“Look at me,” he demands shakily when Nick squeezes his eyes closed and a thrill races through him as Nick immediately obeys, “Come on me, come on my face,”

He’s done with hiding what else he’s doing and he hurriedly pushes his jeans to bunch below his arse as his cock is freed, pink and already being handled as his rhythm on it doesn’t falter. He plays with Nick in time with his own and stares up at him, eyes blackened with feeling.

“ _Please_ ,” he begs desperately and Nick hunches like his strings have been cut, making a sound like he’s been winded and watching on helplessly as he comes across Louis’ face like he asked.

Louis feels it stripe his chin and slash his jawline, dripping down to collect in the hollow of his throat and Nick’s thumb smudging it carelessly into the exposed edge of his collarbone. He can barely see through what’s splattered on the lenses of Nick’s glasses once the moment passes, but it matters not one bit as he gingerly takes them off before ruining his tentativeness and tossing them across the tiles, licking the taste of Nick from his lips. 

He thinks Nick will loudly object to such rough treatment of his fashion sense, in fact he’s sure of it, so he can only sit motionless with his cock still hard and his face raised to watch Nick’s expression as he runs a shaky hand through his own messed up excuse for a hairstyle before doing the same to Louis.

“You like making me come so hard?” he grips tighter onto the soft hairs at the back of his neck, sticking up with waxy product and Nick’s roaming fingers, “Fuck, Louis, you’re a _wreck_ ,”

“Ta very much, you prick,” Louis replies, but his voice cracks and wavers and he knows he’s going to be busted.

“You know what I mean!” Nick snaps then blinks with realisation as the tendons work in Louis’ forearm and the vein in his neck pulses blood to his dick. If anything, Nick watching him wank in the middle of the brightly-lit kitchen makes him want to show off even more, “oh my god, hey, no, stop,”

He licks his fingers, tasting spots of Nick on his skin and intends to ignore him, ready to reach his own end. Unfortunately, Nick disagrees and Louis berates himself for closing his eyes as in the next moment arms are around the back of his thighs and he’s hoisted into the air over Nick’s shoulder. He feels a hard smack to his arse and covers the way his dick twitches in his trapped hand by acting indignant.

“Grimshaw!” he squawks in what he hopes is his most pissed off, domineering tone, “Put me down right now, you complete and utter arsehole! OI! NICHOLAS!”

It’s a relief to find that Nick isn’t totally stupid and Louis sinks a little gratefully into the cushions as Nick only carries him – fucking _carries_ him – into his living room to push him onto one of the sofas. He kneels at his feet as Louis sulks, slumped and refusing to help as Nick removes him from his tangle of clothes.

“Go on. I know you want to come,” he smiles.

Louis frowns, crossing his arms and suddenly feeling several kinds of cold and exposed and vulnerable. “No. I don’t.”

Quick as anything, Nick takes his cock in hand and the feel of someone not himself finally touching him has Louis’ hands flying out to grip the seat beneath him as his back bows deeply, arching up into the touch with a sharp cry because Nick’s speed is instantly unforgiving.

“Yeah, that’s it, babe,” he coaxes, kissing Louis’ nearest spread thigh, “Wanna fucking see come all over you, like you can’t help lose it. Come on, I know it’s there. No bed tonight, love, I wanna shag your brains out right here. But first you gotta come for me.” 

He can’t stop the moan that tumbles out when Nick unexpectedly lets go, handing the contact and the control back to him as he physically places Louis’ sticky fingers around his own cock. It has him squirming and bucking, grasping for what he was denied earlier and his stomach flips as he realises that now he’ll be able to have it. Strung tight as it is, a few strokes is all it takes for Louis to start feeling the familiar urge pounding against every spot on his body that’s even mildly sensitive. His legs sprawl unconsciously loose, his hips jerking from the grip of his fist that he tightens to hurry things up. He glances at Nick sat prone at his feet and tries to frown, his eyebrows wrinkling his forehead a little, but before he can breathlessly ask why Nick isn’t doing anything, his dark head of hair passes like a blur between Louis’ legs and teeth are at his inner thigh, clamping down to suck until his blood is throbbing painfully and his mouth falls open, nothing left to voice his shock as he comes in long spurts, wringing himself with fervour as his eyelashes bat wildly in time, until he can’t stand another second of it.

He’s still shivering through an aftershock, his body hazy with released tension, when he feels gentle lapping at his fingers and his eyes flutter open. Nick licks his slack hand clean of every pearly drop, one fingertip at a time, before immediately moving to his belly, humming in contentment and grinning when Louis’ gaze rolls away a little unfocused.

“What good is that?” he asks hoarsely after some moments spent getting over that cheeky display, looking unimpressed at Nick’s soft cock.

“Don’t you worry your exceptionally pretty head, I have a plan. Turn around.”

“What if I’m okay laying here like this?”

Nick raises an eyebrow, “Then you’ll never know my plan. It’s a good one too. Turn and face the sofa, sweetpea, there’s a good lad.”

Louis grumbles under his breath about Nick being a _condescending wanker_ , but complies and rolls anyway, knees digging into the back of the sofa as he rests his cheek on his arms. Nick’s hands skim up his sides before Louis realises that he’s still wearing his top and he lifts up so it can be pulled off. After it’s discarded and neither is wearing anything more, Nick leans into him and brings a hand round to his jaw, turning his head for a kiss.

“I wish I could have you naked all the time,” he confesses quietly as he pulls away, but his grin is filthy, “Will you just not bother with clothes as soon as you come round here? I’d quite like looking at you wandering the flat completely starkers. It’s a big look.”

Louis smirks at him with a sidelong glance, “ _Big_ , yeah, but that depends actually.”

“On...?”

“What you’ll do to convince me.”

He hides his smile into his wrists as Nick huffs a laugh into his skin because of how challengingly haughty he sounds before he curls his tongue to swipe and suck where his shoulder curves up towards his throat. Louis makes a low murmuring noise for that and reaches back to ruffle ineffectually at Nick’s hair for a second, encouraging him to continue pressing his mouth from the knee-weakening smoothness of his nape to the top of his shoulder blades. When Louis senses him hovering to his right, he opens the eye not covered by his arms to see Nick reach into the middle distance. The room suddenly blossoms with a low, orange glow from the gnarly antique lamp nearby and a shiver inexplicably runs down his spine as he realises they were in almost-darkness and now they are not. They’re kneeling naked on Nick’s posh cream furniture and he plans to do those tricks with his tongue and there’s distressingly romantic light so, as he turns with the faintest line of a smile, Louis elbows him sharply in a bony rib.

“You are such a dick,” he groans, his hot face disappearing into the crook of his arm again.

If anything, Nick’s smile grows. “I want to see what I’m doing. Why is that so bad? It’s you, by the way,”

Louis squirms like he’s thinking about cutting his losses and making a run for it when long fingered hands curve around his waist and lips return to his neck. He’s held in a surprisingly strong grip as teeth nip just where his neck ends, as if he’s a mischievous lion cub receiving a telling off and the thought makes him gasp a giggle, short of breath for a moment because Nick trying to be that stern is as confusingly hot as it is absolutely ludicrous. Louis’ still amused as Nick’s palm finds his back, skating downwards to cup a peachy buttock and squeezing as his other hand searches for his dick, pressed heavenly against the sofa cushions. He feels the butterflies of renewed interest start up again and although Nick gives him a few cheeky tugs to his cock before letting go, he hasn’t got time to whine about it as Nick’s mouth moves steadily southwards. He maps out the plains and dips in his back with his tongue, making up nonsense then erasing with kisses until Louis’ glad for the stability of the seat and a shake passes over him, raising goosebumps, the closer Nick gets to his arse. Nick’s tall enough to kneel on the carpet and still reach out comfortably, pulling him backwards a little by the hips, except Louis misses the promise of friction on his dick amidst the rebellious streak to mess up Nick and all the things he owns so he resists for a second, his spine bowing, before a sharp nip to the underside of his thigh makes him yelp and throw a harsh glare over his shoulder. 

Nick is unaffected as ever, licking his thumb with a look of innocence that makes Louis warily let it go until the spit-slick digit rubs lightly over his hole. He pants out a sudden breath, a low, closed-mouth moan following as his hands claw onto the back of the sofa for purchase and the goosebumps turn into trembles. As well as his lips not entirely where he wants them to be, Nick’s hands do a pretty good job of distracting him by being everywhere at once, smoothing across his skin and grabbing handfuls, pressure points that release when Louis tries to rock into them. 

He feels as if he’s moving the sofa in desperation, a sound of something roaring in his ears, and tries to flinch away when Nick’s fingers draw from the ticklish instep of his feet and push until his thumbs search inwards, pressing over the hair at his thighs and up until he meets completely bare flesh again to spread him open. A louder moan tinged with relief tears itself hoarsely from his throat as Louis feels the points of Nick’s face come unbearably close and a sweet, wet kiss land right where he’s eager for it most. He shifts and wriggles to get more and, instead of Nick laughing or swatting at him, he laps up his movements quite literally, circling his tongue in quick flicks over the muscle as dusky as his pebbled nipples and pinker only where Nick stretches him wider with his thumb. He’s sensitive already and struggling to stay high on his knees but Nick makes a noise when he tries to straighten, pulling him back onto his face as Louis’ stomach swoops with the knowledge and he dares let go of the sofa with one hand to grasp tightly onto the first tuft of Nick’s hair within reach. He bites down on the tiny cupid’s bow of his lip and squeezes his eyes shut as Nick snakes fingers between his legs to connect with his cock before his mouth moves away from his hole. In its absence, he strokes with his fingertips and Louis relaxes under his hands as he licks at the root of his dick and over his balls to hear the answering sob. Nick tries to bite him again, stinging where his inner thigh meets his groin like now he’s paler from winter all Nick wants to do is mark him so that later when Louis blearily looks in the mirror he will see and he will remember.

Nick’s palm is still sliding rather drily on his cock when he buries his face in his arse and Louis winces before releasing Nick’s head and pushing two of his own fingers past his lips. He quickly sucks on them and smiles at how the sloppy sounds makes Nick groan into his skin, sending vibrations through him and his limbs spasm in a short shiver as he tangles their hands briefly to ease the way. Suddenly it’s a lot messier than a few seconds ago and he can’t quite get rid of his smile, even when his mouth falls slack and his eyes shut as Nick wiggles a finger into him to the last knuckle. He finds himself clenching wonderfully hard, imagining the knobbly ridges but smooth skin of Nick’s long, elegant hands, and the hand that he meant to leave his dick alone speeds up a little in excitement, playing underneath his foreskin with light teasing touches and caught between that and Nick getting him ready for his cock. He gasps a sharp, breathy “oh” and slumps forward into the sofa, chin hitting the backrest when Nick slowly withdraws his finger a little for him to focus in and feel the teasing drag.

“You open up so nicely for me,” he praises, turning in to drop a kiss to the nearest cheek as Louis pictures him staring, fascinated, because _he_ did that to him. “Like your body’s made for my hands,”

Louis moans in response as his cock hardens fully in his hold, but has to let go to resume his sofa death grip as Nick screws in a second finger down with the first to keep him on edge and filled as he greedily licks around them. It doesn’t take a lot to prepare him for a thorough fucking, one of the lucky ones, but Nick likes to torture him because he’s apparently not done with licking him out and Louis’ close to biting at the furniture if he doesn’t get on with it. In his next breath, he’s half tempted to do it anyway to imagine the shriek of indignation, but before he can actually put teeth to sofa, Nick’s fingers have gone and it pulls him away his mischief. He tries to look between his legs to find out why but just mostly succeeds in head-butting the furniture, although luckily Nick’s mouth returns in its place with a vengeance and it feels like a second shock to the system. He swears another drawn out, moaning blue streak and struggles to touch himself to release some of the pent-up arousal, except Nick’s reflexes are quicker because he’s the one inflicting this tightrope walk of not enough/too much. He presses Louis’ wandering hand to his side and the crush of the cushions, although Louis being Louis makes to break free. His breathing kicks up a notch as Nick squeezes his wristbone to warn him off any real funny business at the same time as his mouth slants over his hole and licks in deeper than before. Louis is helpless against the tidal wave of building sensitivity and the moans that wish to spill from down in his chest and toes, forced to take it as Nick’s head moves in counterpoint to the greedy jabs of his tongue and his warm breath on Louis’ even warmer skin until he’s panting from the wriggling and frustrating restraint.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” he laughs, leaning up towards Louis’ ear as he grips the back of his neck with the span of his hand, “you’re so responsive y’know, I love it,”

“Wouldn’t you be?” he retorts shakily, too hyperaware to cover it, “Your – fuck, your mouth, your fingers,”

Nick groans as he gets a knee onto the edge of the seat to slot himself behind him, pushing his crotch close enough that Louis flails around for his thigh and shifts so that Nick’s cock slips between his cheeks.

He grits his teeth and splays his fingers into Louis’ mussed hair to ward off the urge for a second to just sink in easily, brushing his other hand along the slope of his spine, “You want more? Ready for a fucking, Lou? So willing, darling, so loose from my tongue,”

Nick tucks two fingers into him briefly as he moves his grasp from Louis’ hair to his throat so he can swoop in and kiss him. Louis takes hold of his thin bicep to turn as Nick bites his top lip gently then laves the sting with a swipe of his tongue that has Louis leaning after him for more. Eventually, he has to pull away.

“Awkward,” he explains breathlessly as he attempts to shift around.

Nick lets him, but only so his back is against the sofa instead of his front, their knees almost touching as he crowds into Louis’ personal space and stretches his hands along the backrest with a ‘stay there’ kind of squeeze to his fingers. Louis watches him as he leans across the sofa, this time rooting in a drawer beneath where the lamp stands to come up with a condom and a smaller bottle of lube than the one permanently in his bedroom. Louis raises his eyebrow and wishes he was more articulate in that moment but Nick doesn’t seem to mind, throwing the opposite eyebrow at him with a grin. He senses what his plan is, can see it in the mischievous look often reflected on his own face, as his weight pins Louis in place and his hands drift to get himself ready. He nudges him around when he is and Louis puffs out a breath as he braces himself to tell him that this isn't going to end as well as he thinks but Nick pushes the issue like usual, until his thighs are balanced underneath the backs of his and he has two handfuls of Louis’ raised calves. He’s entirely trapped, folded and exposed and sucks in air as Nick presses his hips forward and blunt tip of his cock flirts with his arse.

“No, no,” he pants, uncertainty suddenly marring his face and fingers digging into the sofa as Nick thrusts teasingly without pushing in, “this is so not attractive right now, you do realise that, yeah?”

He rolls his eyes before he fixes Louis with a hard, dark stare, “You look the sexiest you’ve ever been,”

He can’t help it, his skin glows hot at the intense way Nick’s voice and expression dropped, his gaze following as he seems to take all of his body in, committing it to memory. Louis doesn’t stop him because he’s struck with the thought that maybe _Nick_ thinks he will and that hits him more powerfully than he thought it would so he lets him have his fill. It’s a quick once-over in reality and a lick of the lips before he leans in to capture Louis’ swollen, pink mouth and slides his cock in. It’s as overwhelming as when they’re horizontal with Nick’s penchant for keeping close as they fuck, or maybe moreso when his hips have to drive in and up at a sharp angle. It’s even better when Louis starts to bear down to meet him and seems to spark something in Nick that has him grabbing his legs from resting passively on his shoulders to hold his ankles. He’s pushed out wide to take it and his toes curl as Nick’s fast rhythm begins to falter erratically, his eyes closing to claw back some semblance of control and his lips squashed wetly onto his ankle bone.

Louis’ desperate to touch himself, to pinch a nipple or tug on his cock, but he’s afraid of taking a hand away from this precarious position and he clenches from the little frisson of fear, enough to make Nick moan brokenly, What he’s not expecting is Nick to barrel into him, his legs falling into the crook of his elbows as he searches for Louis’ mouth some more. To help him out, Louis tries to push back to absorb the sudden movement and gain leverage but he ruins it completely by grabbing for Nick’s head instinctively, moaning hoarsely against his lips as he feels a hard squeeze to his arse. He’d reprimand him for it if the bright flash of pain didn’t melt so effortlessly with the sweet ache and drag. In fact, his world feels like it’s tipping on its axis and it’s not until Nick wrenches away with a wobbly shout that Louis realises they’ve both been a bit too vigorous in their thrusts and countermovement as the sofa starts to tip backwards with a thud. Louis thinks his head is probably going to suffer the same fate and he scrunches his eyes shut tightly enough that the crinkles at the corners appear despite not smiling at all. When the inevitable impact never actually arrives, he cracks one eye open with caution. He’s still folded like a piece of origami paper and Nick is above him on his forearms instead of his hands. It’s then that he grins and Louis feels hands wiggle against the crown of his sweaty head.

“I could’ve brained myself!” he spits incredulously, his heart in his throat from secret relief.

“But you didn’t,” Nick laughs and flutters his eyelashes, “I saved you.”

“What, do you want a medal or something?” 

“I can think of something I still want,” he whispers, snapping his teeth near Louis’ earlobe. “Roll over.”

Nick’s arms fall to his waist but Louis picks them off before he can quite get there, folding their fingers together to fight him. It’s difficult not to react when he’s still inside him, his cock shifting in inches as they jostle ineffectually for position but Louis can’t seem to stop himself. He knows how to do this, how to win, as he slaps and punches for all he’s worth. He’s just not used to having a dick in his arse as he does it and it’s ultimately his downfall as Nick cottons on to his unique advantage after some thrashing around and pulls his arm over so that he’s almost on his stomach from the waist up, their legs tangled as he rolls his hips in a manipulatively wide, deep arc, enough for Louis’ vision to sway momentarily unfocused.

“I think that means I’m victorious,” he says, nose to nose and his smile blurry white.

“Can’t you just say ‘I win’ like a normal person,” Louis grumbles but doesn’t dispute it any longer.

Nick kisses him consolingly on his damp shoulder marked with carpet creases as they come to the silent mutual agreement that it might be less of a disaster for Nick to fuck him on his hands and knees after all. Louis opens his mouth to make a quip about carpet burn when he sinks in easily without any preamble whatsoever, stealing his wit and breath. His arse is slightly more on display than usual as his knees remain on the sofa but his spine curves down from leaning his forearms on the carpet as Nick continues to kneel behind him, his feet digging into the upturned seat. His hands are flat on Louis’ ribs, perhaps to make sure he’s steady, and he shivers when Nick seems satisfied that he is and drags his palms over the curve of his waist and squeezing there wickedly to make him flinch.

“Hey, whoa, stop,” he says with a half laugh.

Louis pushes backwards so that the movement forces Nick’s dick to disappear and drops one arm behind himself to cover one of Nick’s wandering, stroking hands with his own. He bites at Louis' raised shoulder blade in retaliation to imprint the previous fading crease more obviously into his skin and rubs the sweat off his forehead there too, shaking his head.

“Why?” he giggles, sounding drunker than he had when he was folding Louis up in all shapes, as if Louis’ just enough alone, “Are you ticklish? Shit, you’re so hot I wanna fuck you again and again,”

Louis rolls his eyes, “Just fuck me now, yeah? And stop squeezing my bits. I’m not a cuddly toy.” He puts his weight on an arm to twist his torso and reach out, bringing Nick closer to curl his hand around the nape of his neck, grinning, “You afraid you might break me? I dare your skinny arse to try, Grimmy,”

His eyes widen, “Oh its Grimmy now, is it? You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, duck,”

Louis closes his eyes briefly as he lets the shudder run through him then darts forward to press a hard, unrelenting kiss to soft lips, to communicate that there was a promise made to take him home and he wants a lot of things to show for it. Consequently, he goes easily as they break their lip-lock and Nick pushes a hand to his cheek before stroking it down his back and around to lie flat on his chest. He feels him nudge down inside as they stick together with sweat and sheer determination, Nick's thrusts fast and shallow as his mouth peppers Louis' ribs with kisses and bites and he responds encouragingly, tilting his hips to open himself more. Instead of falling back to his waist, Nick’s hands move independently – the one on Louis' ribs to the edges of his lips, but it’s not until the other starts to stroke his dick that he appreciates something to suck on.

He speeds up after that and Louis’ distracted arousal comes back to life as the cool wetness at his hole grows warmer with friction. His elbows lose their footing as Nick gasps for him to take over and touch himself, his blunt fingernails scratching into the pale, plush carpet amid the slap of skin on skin as he races to get off. He can tell from the sharp rut of Nick’s hips that he’s on board with the idea and the slick-slide of his arse and tongue across his fingers, still smelling faintly of his own come from earlier, has Nick jostling him so hard that his knees start to burn. Louis bites on Nick’s thumb as he uses the quickest solution to orgasm, the sounds and the smells and sensations combining until he can’t hold himself up any longer and come rushes over his knuckles and carelessly drips onto the carpet. 

The fight drained out, he slumps as Nick’s hand slips away to smear his chin but his hips are firmly kept up as Nick keeps going, harsh breaths and grunts above Louis’ head as he lies with his face planted on the floor, body sensitively clenching through aftershocks and Nick almost there. He hits his own end a handful of bruising shoves later, pulling out and tearing off the condom to frantically soak the dimples in Louis' lower back. He falls to his side when he’s done and Louis’ periphery, his smug smile probably visible from space. Louis ignores him for a minute to continue collecting himself, but finds he can’t any longer when Nick’s fingers press into his spine, rubbing in the stickiness like the nuisance he can be.

“Stop it,” he mumbles crossly when he doesn’t, batting at him weakly.

“Want me to lick it off?”

There’s a beat as Louis turns his head to look at him. “No.” he lies.

“Okay then,” he answers brightly, his chest still rising rapidly as an indicator that he hasn’t completely recovered.

Louis’ glad of that because he’s embarrassingly not sure he has either, but then Nick doesn’t have sore elbows, sore knees and, more importantly, a sore arse. With a sigh, he heaves himself into a sitting position then thinks better of it and finishes spread out on his side, head propped up by his hand.

“I hope we haven’t broken this,” he says, not sounding all that apologetic as he kicks the seat with his foot.

“Worth it though.” Nick grins after a second’s silence and looking at each other shiftily and Louis has to smile too. He leans in and taps Louis on the nose, immediately making a noise. “Ugh even your nose is sweaty. Get in the shower, you mongrel!”

Louis stands slowly and makes his way to the door, pausing to toss a look over his shoulder. “Yes, sir.” he replies in his mostly fake-sultry but still accidentally huskiest voice.

Whatever he’s going for, it seems to do the trick as Nick scrambles after him and he throws his head back, laughing wildly as he runs to slam the bathroom door in his face.

***

Louis wakes before Nick the following morning and decides that he’s not quite done with him yet. He rolls over to find him perfectly positioned on his back and gently puts a thigh over him to straddle his waist, slowly seating himself just above the dip of his pyjama-covered groin. He breathes out when Nick doesn’t stir, but presses his lips together to keep in a giggle as he realises he’s about to ruin that anyway.

“Wakey, wakey, rise and shine,” he whispers into his slack mouth as he kisses him softly. 

He forgives him for not reacting immediately but when a few more seconds go by and he hasn’t even twitched, it simply won’t do, so Louis leans close for a second time as he squeezes his hips with his bare thighs.

“OI GRIMSHAW!” he yells joyously, “Wake the fuck up before I clobber you over the head with this pillow!”

He picks one up swiftly from where he had previously laid as Nick groans groggily then startles upright.

“Huh – what – Shit! I’m late!”

The pillow raised above Louis’ head in a ready strike droops as he loosens his hold and begins to laugh, putting a hand to Nick’s chest and telling him to pipe down. “Sorry, no you’re not. It’s Saturday.”

“Oh.” his shoulders sag in relief as the panic passes, to be replaced with a calculating squint. “So, if that’s not real - is a member of One Direction really sprawled on top of me, wearing my shirt?”

Louis is indeed wearing one of Nick’s checked shirts and absolutely nothing else, undone so a peek of paler belly or a slice of collarbone can be seen when the fabric gives way and his hair is wild at the crown of his head from where he’s been active during the night because even though he’s not sleepwalking much anymore, he’s not that still in bed either. 

They look at each other quietly for a moment until Louis clues in that Nick is _really_ looking at him, brushing him mentally with his brown eyes, as his spidery, warm hands come to rest on the indentations and pink carpet burn still visible on his knees from the eventful night before.

“Mm,” he says, awkwardly blinking away from his gaze, “so you _do_ pay attention. It’s very comfy. I might steal it,”

Nick shrugs halfheartedly. “I haven’t been able to stop Harry yet, I doubt I’m gonna stop you and at least we’re fucking.”

His face suddenly brightens like that’s a reminder before his expression slides more into a smirk and Louis makes room so he can sit up and gather him into his arms, kissing his neck in a proper hello, good morning. He tilts his head to give his mouth better access and takes his lip between his teeth to stop a moan as Nick’s hands don’t stay locked around his back for long, trailing to cup his naked arse. When he squeezes, Louis follows his line of sight to see him staring at their reflection in the nearest mirror sat above the drawers spilling some of his clothes.

“Yeah?”

Nick’s eyes snap to him, “So you’re not sore? It was pretty mad last night.”

He reaches back to test a finger almost into himself, still fairly loose and sticky from the night before. “It was. But it’s fine. I’m mostly alright now. In fact,” he pauses to tuck close into Nick’s neck, dropping his voice to a whisper, slowly enunciating each word. “I quite like feeling thoroughly - fucked - out.”

“Would you make that offended face you have if I said you look it too? God, are you sure you’re not some crazy sex nymph?” he groans.

Louis bites his tongue because he’s fairly sure he heard somewhere that boys can’t actually be nymphs. “Nah. You’re just probably getting too old for this, mate,”

Nick nips at his earlobe in protest but it’s a lazy response because he’s still trying to wake up. With a sarcastic remark about lying back and thinking of England, Louis tears the wrapper of another condom with his teeth and quickly pours a palmful of lube before putting a hand behind on Nick’s cock. He strokes the lube onto his erection then unthinkingly plants his grip on Nick’s chest, clumsily spreading the stuff everywhere as he rocks back a little, just to hear the catch in his own breath. He stares down into Nick’s rapt face and waggles his eyebrows once before slowly sinking down inch by inch, intent on riding towards another couple of glorious, sunshine-tinted orgasms.

Lately, Louis doesn’t believe there can be a better start to the morning.


End file.
